


(i can’t escape) this love

by juggieslush



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst out the wazoo, Based on a Taylor Swift Song, Betty Cooper Loves Jughead Jones, Betty Cooper Needs a Hug, Emotional Hurt, F/M, Jughead Jones Loves Betty Cooper, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Content, Romance, Unhealthy Relationships, bughead - Freeform, i dont want to spoil anything, lots and lots of angst so be prepared, lots of champagne problems, maybe there’s an affair, player jughead jones, yes this is a bughead fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-17 07:41:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29221878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juggieslush/pseuds/juggieslush
Summary: Jughead Jones and Betty Cooper live the same life. Go to bars, nightclubs, in hopes of sweeping someone up for the night. But that’s not all they want—they want wealth. Luxury. Money. Green. Nothing can get in the way of them living their careless lives of playing and buying. Or—that’s what they think. Can they escape love and end up living careless their whole life? Or will they give in to the idea of falling in deep?
Relationships: Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones
Kudos: 12





	1. dancin’ is a dangerous game

**Author's Note:**

> hi everyone!! my name’s mattie ( or juggieslush) here with my first story on ao3!! im so excited for this story, and i can’t wait until it’s finished and see the whole thing together. and buckle up, because angst is basically the theme of this story! 
> 
> and you can find me on wattpad with my same user, if you’re so inclined to check it out! enjoy the first chapter :))

February 15, 1995

Tonight was like any other night at the bar. Well, except for the fact I left my boyfriend on Valentine’s Day. But I had to leave him. He was rich, let me tell you, but it was too perfect if I’m being honest.

Until he walked in.

Tall, dark and sporting a slick black suit. His hair was midnight black, almost like a raven. He also had a few loose curls hanging over his forehead, that I tried really hard not to brush behind his ears.

He turned his head and when our gazes met, it was almost like wildfire. If the world were burning around us, we probably wouldn’t know. His eyes were deep ocean blue, and from this far away, I could see a storm raging in them. And if I’m being honest, the temperature of the room went up at least 10 degrees.

He had a smirk on his lips as he walked over to me. And when he aporoached me, he didn’t take a seat next to me, or anywhere at the bar. 

“I’m Jughead. Jughead Jones.” he spoke, his voice low and mesmerizing.

“Betty Cooper.” I replied and crossed my long legs over the other, as his ocean blue orbs pierced into my emerald green ones. The ocean was swirling now, and I felt like I was drowning.

Then he held his hand out and asked me a question. And no, not the expected question when you meet someone in a bar, like ‘would you kike a drink?’

“Do you wanna dance?” he asked with a small smirk, his voice deep and so—perfect.

I looked at his hand then met his gaze once again and bit my softly before speaking again.

“Dancin’ is a dangerous game.” I replied in a sultry voice, and a small grin on her soft pink lips. 

He looked at me with a smirk forming on his lips, taking that as a yes. He took my hand and stood up from the barstool, leading me out to the empty dance floor in the dimly lit bar.

And as we walked, I thought this was gonna be one of those things.  
Now I know,

I’m never gonna love again.

————

March 11, 1995

It had been a month since we’d seen each other and I couldn’t get that beautiful, handsome face out of my head.

I was on my second gin and tonic, when the door to the bar opened. 

Only to reveal him. 

My breath hitched in my throat, not expecting to see him again. Only this time he was sexier. He was in a white button up, with the top two buttons undone. And, he was in a dark pair of blue jeans with a rip in both knees that definitley needed to be sewn or patched. 

But what was different, was the lit cigarette dangling from his lips, that made him look so delicious and made me want to run my hands along his toned torso straight down to his—  
“Hi.” he said with a small grin on his lips. 

I have some tricks up my sleeve. Takes one to know one. I knew he wasn’t looking for love, only a fancy car. 

“Hi.” I replied with a small smile on my soft red lips.

“What brings you here, Miss Cooper?” he asked after he took a slow drag from his cigarette. 

I decided to ignore his question, and to go straight to the thoughts that were lingering between my red stained lips.

“Tellin’ all the rich folks anything they wanna hear?” I spoke, a small smirk forming on my devilish, teasing lips.

And from there, he was speechless. I never thought I’d catch him speechless before. All he wanted was money, fame, riches. And that’s what I wanted to. But he didn’t know that. He had some tricks up his sleeves, but he didn’t know that I knew. He was a bandit like me, blue eyes full of stars. Hustling for the good life, just like me.

Never thought I’d meet you here again.” I spoke when I saw his lips about to speak. I could tell he was struggling for a moment, and I could tell I was making it hard for him to make conversation.

“It could be love.” he finally spoke with a grin, taking a rather long, and slow drag from his cigarette. He let it rest between his lips, and I got a quick idea. 

I took the cigarette from his lips with my red manicured fingers, and took a small drag myself.  
He raised an eyebrow with a smirk on his lips, and I offered him a wink in return.

I’ve got some tricks up my sleeve, you’re a cowboy like me.

He was always perched in the dark, and we could be the way forward only if I pay for it.

Now I know,  
I’m neve gonna love again.

————

April 12, 1995

I was in bed next to him.

We were tangled in each other’s limbs under my soft white cotton sheets, my head resting on his chest. I could feel his even breaths, and his heart beating in a soothing rhythm. 

Now he hangs from my lips, like the Gardens of Babylon. His boots are beneath my bed, forever is the sweetest con.

I traced patterns on his bare chest as he slept soundly, and this was one of those things. Then, I locked it down.

But we both came from the same world. The old men I’ve swindled really did believe I was the one. And the skeletons in both our closets plotted hard to mess this up. And the ladies lunching have their stories have their stories about when he passed through town. Like this lone ranger in need of luxury and comfort, who you only knew from a country western. But in the form of riches and fake love. And we both knew, that neither of us were looking for love. 

I looked at him again, making sure he was still fast asleep beside me. And sure enough he was. So I took my chance and slipped out from under the covers. But I wasn’t too quick, because his hand was placed on mine. I turned my head, and saw his eyes gazing up into mine.

“You had some tricks up your sleeve, Miss Cooper.” he spoke softly in a rough voice, his raven curls disheveled on his head, and hanging over his eyes. Shit, he was perfect. My red lipstick was still on his lips, and some even lingered on his neck on top of some light purple love marks.

“Takes one to know one.” I replied and bit my lip softly, my red lipstick smudged and almost gone from my lips. I leaned over and placed a soft kiss on his lips, before meeting his gaze. I put my robe around my body, tying it as tight as it would go, almost like I was unknowingly punishing myself. 

I turned my head to look at him one more time, before smiling softly.

Then I turned my head away, and tears of anguish flowed down my cheeks. But I took a deep breath, and floated out of the room, leaving my heart with him.

P.S.  
He left town.


	2. i don’t like a gold rush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s been three months since that fateful night in New York City. Betty’s in LA, continuing her journey after one night with the raven haired man. But fate once again falls into Betty’s hands when they come face to face once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hii!! i hope you guys liked the first chapter of this series!! i’m still in the process of writing, and i have an amazing surprise coming up in the future! :)   
> be sure to leave kudos if you’d like to see more!

_July 2nd, 1995 : Los Angeles, California_

Three months have gone by since I last saw the cowboy that managed to capture my heart. He still hasn’t given it back to me. Mostly because I haven’t seen him. How was someone so well known in this world, nowhere to be found? How could a man so mysterious and beautiful leave with my heart, be gone without a trace?

Apparantly, he was very good qt hiding his tracks. Because I’ve been kind of looking for him. I know it doesn’t make sense, but everywhere I go, it feels like he’s there. Everything about the aura everywhere I go—feels like he’s in a dark corner; watching my every move and planning for just the right time to make his move. But at the same time—it’s almost feels like he’s avoiding me. Avoiding my presence, my mind, and my love. He knows that I love him. He knows that I’m willing to risk a chance with him. A chance to commit and make something out of what we obviously have. _Sigh_ , I can’t dare to dream about him anymore.

I’m currently walking to the closest ice cream shop, desperate to get out of this blistering sun that is LA. I’ve been around the country so many times, why have I been everywhere but I chose to come here during the summer? I should definitely stayed in New York for the summer, that’s for sure. LA was definitely a bad decision.

My golden curls are pulled back into a high ponytail, in an attempt to get my hair off of my neck and cool down a bit. It didn’t look great, considering I was wearing a short blue sundress and white strappy sandals. I’m now thinking that I definitely should’ve considered getting my hair cut.

After a long walk, I finally arrived at the Ice Cream Café in LA, taking a deep breath as the cool, air conditioned air flew in a breeze over my face. I felt more comfortable than I’ve felt all day.

As I walked up to the front, I saw a tall, dark haired man standing in front of me placing an order. And just by his white tank top clad back, he looked extremely familiar. I couldn’t really hear his voice, since my ears had heard so many different ones over the last few months. Then everything became clearer in my mined when the voice became clearer. His tattoed and toned back was oddly familiar, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. But that’s when it hit me.

He turned around, and my heart _stopped_.

And contradictory to that feeling, it felt a breath of fresh air when I saw the sharp lines of his jaw and the constellations his summer freckles made with his scattered dark birth spots on his face. His eyes were just as ocean blue as I remembered them to be. Gleaming, twinkling, his eyes also like sinking ships on waters. And all I wish to do is jump in.

His raven locks unruly on his head, just like they had always been. There was no chance in taming his perfect messy hair. His skin was a little darker, and it was clear he had been in LA since mid-June, because the tan on his lips olive skin was evident. The only other difference was the look in his eyes. I could see the panic in his blue orbs, his thoughts racing in a manic in his intelligent mind.

He stood there for a moment, no doubt observing me as well. I don’t like anticipating my face in a red flush, but I could feel one appearing on my pale white cheeks.

But then he walked past, quick brush, back to a table where a woman sat. Silky, long brown hair falling in waves over her shoulders. Her complexion so beautiful and flawless, a smile so perfect and joyful. I couldn’t help but watch him sit across from her, a smile on his perfect, plush lips. I forced myself to look away, not wanting people to notice I was staring. I sighed softly to myself, and stepped up to place my order for a scoop of strawberry ice cream in a small cup.

Once I retrieved my ice cream, I sit in the far corner booth of the shop, ice cream and spoon in hand. My eyes couldn’t help but wander over to the man and woman. They were splitting a chocolate milkshake, one with two red and white striped straws. And then my eyes wandered somewhere else in the café, and I saw a pair of young women ogling him and a middle aged woman practically undressing him with her eyes as she sucked her spoon clean.

I rolled my eyes and took another bite of ice cream, forcing myself to look down at the table. And then more thoughts filtered through my mind.

What must it be like to grow up that beautiful? His ink black curls fall into place like dominoes. What isn’t there not to like about him? He’s so sexy, gorgeous, likeable, approachable. How could anyone not be attracted to this beautiful man. But it seems like he didn’t want anything to do with me after our one night of beautiful love making. I felt a spark, a rush, and I know he felt it too. But why was he avoiding it? Why was he acting like he didn’t love me? I know he loves me, but why isn’t he doing _shit_ about it?

Everybody wants you, Jughead Jones. Everybody wonders what it would be like to love you the way you love me. I don’t like this gold rush, it’s absolutely sickening the way you make me want you so bad, and yet act like you don’t even want me.

And I felt a coil of jealousy filling my stomach as I rushed out of the café leaving my unfinished ice cream on the table with a pair of blue eyes following me on my way out the door.

———

_July 3rd, 1995 : The Ritz Hotel, Los Angeles, California, 9:27pm._

I sat at the bar of the hotel, swirling around a gin and tonic in my hand. I was wearing a stunning magenta colored dress, spaghetti strapped and cutting off mid calf, with a long slit up to my mid thigh. My mascara was starting to run a bit, because I had forced myself out of my hotel room to stop crying. And I couldn’t seem to shake the fact that my mind still hasn’t drifted away from the tall, dark haired James Dean dreamboat.

A few men, some older, have offered to take me to their rooms, but I had to decline them. For some reason, I wasn’t in the mood anymore. I wasn’t in the mood for playing sick games like I usually was. Because that was before I met him. Before I met someone I didn’t know would change my opinion about love.

Then I felt a strong, calloused hand on my shoulder. I saw someone out of the corner of my eye, sit down beside me.

It was _him_.

I felt his touch fall from my bare shoulder, before I turned my head slightly so I could look at him. He looked so perfect. Damnit, why did he have to look so perfect? I cursed myself in my mind for wanting to drag him up to my room, but I knew I shouldn’t.

He looked like eye candy in his white short sleeved button up shirt and black jeans, except the first three buttons were undone at the top. But I forced myself to stop, because I had explaining to do, and so did he.

“Hey.” came his rough voice that escaped his lips. My gaze caught his, and I was forcing myself to look away, but I just couldn’t. I saw him bite his lip softly, and I cursed myself again for the heat I started to feel within myself. Damnit, I don’t like that falling feels like flying til’ the bones crush.

I stayed silent, then took a sip of my gin and tonic, still not finishing it. I couldn’t drink when he looked at me the way he was. Apologetic, regretful... _lustful_.

”Can we go up to your room? And talk?” he asked, his voice seeming genuine. I shifted my gaze around before answering, seeing the brunette from the ice cream shop wasn’t anywhere in sight.

I focused my gase back on him, before tilting my head back and downing the alcohol in my glass. I placed it back on the bar, lord knows I needed the alcohol to face the upcoming conversation. “Sure.” I simply replied and slid off the barstool, my silver 3-inch pumps touching the floor.

He followed suit, and followed me to the elevator where we stepped on and the silver doors closed. We stood side by side in silence, close enough for sexual tension to be cut with a knife, but not close enough to rip each other’s clothes off.

The ding came on the elevator at the 14th floor, and I stepped out of the elevator and walked to my room with him following behind me. I could feel the heat radiating off of him from behind me as we walked, and it was becoming so painful to be this close to him.

Once we reached my room, and waved the key over the scanner and stepped into my room.

He filed in behind me and I heard him close the door. My clothes and toiletries were scattered all over the room, thrown out of pure frustration I had an hour earlier.

I sat on the edge of the hotel bed, and he stood by the window, keeping his distance from me. He was forcing himself not to touch me. Or hold me. I knew that. I know him too well.

He waited for me to start, because I had to get this out of my system. I couldn’t hold back anymore. I’ve held it in for too long and if I didn’t say anything—I’d regret it for the rest of my life.

“I want _you_ , Jughead. For these three months that I haven’t seen you, I feel like when I see or feel you somewhere, you aren’t there. It’s almost as if I’m looking for you, and you keep running. You’re running from me, but you’re also running away from the fact that you’re scared of being with me.

You’re scared of waking up next to me and feeling something other than utter lust and satisfaction. We both run, play and do whatever the hell we want to do to live a lavish life. But now, I know I’ll never be able to love again. Because of that dance the night we met, the second time we met, and that amazing night we spent together—I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you...and us.” I spoke truthfully, tears clouding my vision as he stood there, his blue orbs meeting the ground and forcing to keep them there.

I could tell that he didn’t know what to say, so I continued.

“We’re just alike, I know. But I’m willing to sacrifice something I’ve always had, to something I thought I didn’t want. And what I want is you. To be with you and keep you forever. I want you to be mine, Jughead. And the fact you never want to admit, terrifies me.” I finished, not realizing I had tears rolling down my cheeks like an overflowing waterfall.

He met my gaze again, and I could see the pain he was feeling. But I couldn’t feel remorseful yet, not until I heard what he had to say.

“I love you too, Betty. As much as I hate to admit it, I love you. I love you so much that everytime I think about you, my heart feels like it’s being squeezed to the point of eruption. But there’s something you should know about me; I can’t settle. The world is calling to me, and there’s _so much_ I need to do to earn that adventurous and free life that I’ve dreamed of since I left my hometown of Riverdale.” he spoke.

“I can’t accept a life like that, after all these amazing days I’ve been living carefree. I don’t want any responsibilities, I want to fly, spread my broken wings. Fly away and have fun like I’m meant to do. I want to make the most of my life. And when I think of you— _hell_ I want to rip my heart out of my chest and throw it in the ocean.

I can’t live with the fact that I love someone so much, and I can’t give them what they want because I want what they don’t.” he finished and ran his hands through his hair.

I couldn’t believe it. All this time he’d been running, being with woman after woman, women wanting him. Women on the street wanting to know what it’s like to love him. And here he was, telling me that even though he was being carefree with women he didn’t love, he couldn’t settle for me. He loved me too much to disappoint me and leave me high and dry.

“It sounds like you want me to stop loving you. But I can’t, Jughead, that’s the problem. I want all of you—or nothing. But I can’t forget about you that easily. So all I’m asking of you, is to try and show me how much you love me. By leaving it all behind to be with who you love. Because you can run all you want, but I—“

I couldn’t finish my sentence, because his lips covered mine. And my thoughts stopped. All that mattered was him. He was here. And by this kiss, this sensual, passionate kiss—he was living for me. He didn’t have to say anything.

I slowly pulled away and rested my forehead gently against his chin, panting softly from the heat of kiss.

“Oh, Cooper. You’ve got me in deep shit, now.” he spoke gruffly, his lips grazing mine.

I immediately smashed our lips together after he spoke, almost not letting him finish his sentence. He groaned softly against my lips, and and I could feel his hand roaming to back and playing with the zipper of my dress.

I bit his lip softly in approval and he slowly zipped down the dress. I keeped my lips pressed heatedly against his as I lifted the straps off my shoulders, letting the material fall forgotten on the ground.

And what was even better, was I just remembered I didn’t wear a single piece of clothing under my dress—except for a thin scrap of white lacy underwear. I felt his lips pull away, his eyes roaming down my body.

And he smirked— _devilishly_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tbc :)


	3. i sit and watch you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Months have passed since the two had decided to settle down together in a lovely apartment in NYC. But are things as perfect as Betty wants them to be?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi!! it’s been a while, only because i want to have another chapter done before i posted this one!! but seriously, this is an angsty and sad chapter, where we’re once again, in betty’s mind.
> 
> enjoy :)

November 3, 1995 - 8:21pm - Present

I sit and watch him reading with his head low. I sit and watch him breathing with his eyes closed. He’s been in the living room for quite some time now. I notice everything he does and doesn’t do. I memorize every move he makes, because that’s how I get my time with him sometimes. 

Watching him. 

I finished cooking dinner for him about 10 minutes ago, and I’ve laid the table with the fancy shit like I always do. It’s his favorite: spaghetti and meatballs with cayenne spice and some spiced garlic. But somehow, he doesn’t notice I’m done. Or that he just doesn’t care I made him dinner for the 200th day in a row. 

I’m sitting on the barstool facing the living area and he’s just sitting there reading. It’s like I’m just kid, waiting by the door for him. Almost like I’m just waiting for his next move. But this has to be all in my head—shouldn’t it? I shouldn’t be thinking he’s just tolerating me for the sake of it. 

I also hate that this past month has been the longest of my entire life. He’s changed. The first two months of our new relationship was so magical. It was just me and him against this horrible, dreaded world we live in. He threw blankets over my barbed wire, let me cry on his shoulder when I was sad.

Let me be his safe place, his home. His safety net. And he used to be my safety net. But that’s not how it feels anymore. 

After a few more minutes of sitting and watching, he gets up and places his book on the side table. He walks over to the kitchen, running a hand through his thick raven locks.

“Smells good.” he spoke, placing a peck on my cheek as he passed by, heading to the table. He took his seat at the end closest to the kitchen, and picked up his fork, starting to eat. I closed my eyes for a moment, before opening them and taking my spot at the end opposite him. 

I also lit candles. And put roses on the table. 

It was our 3 month anniversary. 

And he forgot.

I sit and watch him eat his dinner, as I twirl my fork around my spaghetti. And my thoughts begin to swirl again...it’s like they’re trying to tell me something. It’s like they’re warning me. If this is all in my head, he needs to tell me now. 

I can’t do this when he acts like I’m just here, and he can’t accept this love I’m trying to give him. “Tell me I’ve got this wrong somehow.” I tell myself. This can’t be happening to us, it just can’t. That’s not how love is supposed to work, it’s just not.

My love should be celebrated. 

I want to spend my time with him. Cuddling on the couch and watching stupid scary movies. Going out to eat at the finest restaurants. Going to the beach and stargazing. That’s what I want. But he’s never here for me and he just tolerates me. There’s that shitty word again. 

Tolerate. Tolerate. Tolerate.

After dinner, he leaves to our bedroom. Nothing, just silence as I sit at the table alone. I felt a tear form in my eye, but I quickly wipe it away. I stand up from my chair, picking up my unfinished plate and his clean one. I walk to the kitchen and run some hot water to wash them in the sink. 

That way we don’t have to lay in silence at night like any other night. 

After I wash our dishes, I polish them until they gleam and glisten. And as I’m polishing them, I feel my thoughts running again and this time—I can’t help but let them keep running this time. I can’t take it anymore. The thoughts take over.

I use my best colors for his portait. I try to make him happy, I practically beg for his attention. I made him my temple, my mural, my sky. And after this dinner, I feel like I have to beg for for footnotes in the story of his life. He galavants all day, having fun while I waitress at the local diner down the street full-time. 

I work for us, I work for us to have a home and to be able to put dinner on the table every night. And he just tolerates my kindness, my love, everything! I do everything for him! And he’s just there, afraid to be committed and afraid to be away from his careless life he once had—we once had. 

I gave up everything. I gave up that life for us. I gave up being a selfish whore to be with this man who captured my heart, my attention—my love. My undying love for him. It felt so fast falling for him. One look, and that was it. We were both it for each other. 

But for the past month, I’ve taken his discretions all in good fun. I tolerate his discretions. But why should I when he won’t tolerate me and all I do to make us happy? To make him happy?

Sigh, I have to end this soon.

November 30, 1995 - 10:30pm

He’s asleep next to me. Sound asleep. So peaceful, so beautiful. Shit, he’s so beautiful.

I’m laying on my side, facing him as he sleeps soundly. I have sheets pulled up covering my bare chest, just watching him sleep and dream.

If I had a superpower, I would want to read minds. Because I want to know what’s going on in that beautiful brain of his. He’s stuck a dagger in me, and removed it so many times I can’t even count.

But it’s everyday. Every single day he stabs me and takes it out. But I love him. He loves me. He’s beautiful, fun, everything to me. I felt tears roll down my cheeks as I gazed at his beautiful, peaceful face. 

His dark curls, ocean blue eyes, his sexy smirk—everything about him is too mesmerizing. He’s so intoxicating, it’s going to be so hard to have to let go of him.

“While you were out building other worlds, where was I?” I whispered softly to myself, begging tears not to roll down my cheeks. I knew he couldn’t hear me. And I was only telling him this, because I knew I wasn’t strong enough to tell him what was going on in my head. 

“I made you my temple, my mural, my sky.” I whispered again, the tears of anguish, love and hurt rolling down my cheeks. He’s my everything, my whole world. I gave it all up for him. I held the world in the palms of my hands. He took it for granted. 

And it took so much in me not to sob. I didn’t want to feel hurt, so much as wake him and make things worse for us. But me, I have to make myself feel okay. And I don’t feel okay.

I’m drawing hearts by the byline, because I know he’s struggling to put me in his story. I know he’s struggling, damnit I do know that. But so am I. He doesn’t understand this weight, and pounds of pressure he’s put on my limp shoulders.

I don’t know if I can do this anymore. 

And instead of saying what I should say, I stay silent.

I lay and watch him.


	4. dropped your hand while dancing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s Christmas time in NYC, and despite Betty’s wishes, Jughead has been planning a surprise for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another sad chapter!! I told y’all this story was going to be angsty, and this chapter is the definition of angst.  
> Also, I changed the chapter number, because I’m still deciding if I’ll post an epilogue at the end, or create a part 2 for the story :)
> 
> And I added Jughead’s pov for this chapter too!
> 
> Grab your tissues 🤍

December 24th, 1995 - NYC

Life was going on as normal. And seemingly so, Jughead didn’t really notice how I was feeling about our relationship. He had been very distant ever for the past four months, after our anniversary, but I don’t think he’s ever noticed. He’s always coming home right when the sun sets, and he’s been working day and night to “bring home more cash” for us. 

But when we spend time together, he’s so smiley and lovey dovey around me. It’s weird, in a way. He shows me some affection at times, just to keep me from asking questions about him coming home late. But in the long run—I don’t feel loved. 

I love him with all my heart. I have so much love for him, my heart overfills itself with it. Sometimes I feel like I hate him, but then I fall back in love with him all over again. But despite that, I don’t think this love we share could last for forever. So I feel like, in the most sincere and easiest way possible...I have to tell him how I feel. It sounds crazy, but I can’t live with my love not being celebrated anymore. I need someone who shows me love all hours of the day and gives me flowers and remembers our anniversary.

The most beautiful, and caring man I’ve ever known...doesn’t act like he truly loves me anymore. We had such a spark when we met. It was so beautiful and amazing and I couldn’t tell anyone that any other love was more strong than ours. 

Love is supposed to be how I imagined it in fairy tales. But maybe those were just high expectations.

So he we are.

Standing on the landing of our beautiful penthouse in New York City. The bustling crowds ever so present as they always are. The lights of cars and buildlings lighting up the night. Snowflakes slowly falling from the sky like little angels who are trying to remind us that this is the happiest time of the year. 

Our friends are inside, decking the halls that we once walked through. I was wearing a cherry red mid-thigh sweater dress, and brown knee high boots. And of course Jug looks as delectable as ever in his white button up and black slacks, a semi-lit cigarette dangling from his lips. 

My plan was to tell him after Christmas that I couldn’t do it anymore. I didn’t want to ruin the holiday for either of us, so I decided to stick it out until the 26th. I could only imagine how he would react. He would either be non-chalant, or—he would be heartbroken. And I really didn’t think I could stand to see him heartbroken. 

Jughead had asked me to come out to the landing for a minute alone from our rowdy friends, and I had said yes. I did need a breath of fresh New York City air from all the sweets and booze that filled our apartment. I turned to face him with a small smile, one that I had been forcing for some time now. He just looks so happy and carefree...and he doesn’t even know about the mask I’m wearing in front of him at this very moment.

He looked at me with a soft smile on his lips, and I felt lost for a moment in his ocean blue orbs. I mentally shook it off before focusing my attention again on the beautiful man in front of me.

“Betty, we’ve been each other for almost a year and a half now. From the moment we met, to this moment now...nothing has changed about how I feel about you. We used to be so reckless apart, and it took so much for you to convince me that this is what I really want. But you don’t have to convince me anymore. Because what I want is to spend my life with you, the way life is meant to be spent.” he said with a smile on his lips.

Oh no. 

No. This isn’t supposed to be happening. It can’t be happening. Shit shit shit. He’s seriously doing this, and I can’t believe that he chose to do this right now. I felt tears in my eyes as kneeled down in front of me, and he smiled up at me like I was tearing up with tears of joy. But I wasn’t, of course. 

This wasn’t supposed to happen this way.

He pulled a small box out of his pocket and opened it, revealing a stunning diamond engagement ring. It was so expensive, and I could tell he was so proud if it, because he knew I was an extra and extravagant woman. And it looked familiar—because it was his mother’s ring. 

I wish I could be happy, because this was the happiest moment of my life. Where I would start it with him and be by his side. 

“I guess what I’m trying to say is...will you marry me, Betty?” he asked me with a joyful smile. 

I was silent for a moment. My hand on my chest and glancing between the ring and the beautiful man I loved so desperately. Thoughts were running through my mind at lightening speed, and memories flashed before me. All the happy memories came in...but then the bad ones and I felt awful that I had to break his heart. But it had to be done. I couldn’t go any longer, and he had to know. Maybe one day he’ll find someone to patch up his tapestry that I shred.

His mom’s ring was in his hand now, my picture in his wallet.

His heart was glass.

I dropped it.

—

“No.”

The one word I didn’t expect to leave Betty’s mouth tonight. 

I froze in my place as I looked up at her, fear in my eyes. 

Why did she say that? Why would she not want me to marry her? I’ve given her all the love I could, and I’ve been working more to support us and our future. So I felt the best way to tie up our love story would be to propose on Christmas Eve, and make it even more special. Having a special memory like this would last forever.

I had a speech after she would say yes, and now I’m speechless. Love slipped beyond my reaches, and she couldn’t give a reason. 

I stood up after a moment and she said nothing, quickly stepping off the landing and slipping back inside. I saw the smile she put on her lips, and it seemed that our friends had no idea what had just happened outside.

One for the money, two for the show. I guess she never was ready, so I watched her go. Sometimes you just don’t know the answer, til’ someones on their knees and asks you. I shook my head and took a drag out of my cigarette, before tossing it off the landing. I walked back inside the apartment, watching Betty sip on wine and chat to her friends with a smile on her shiny red lips.

I told our friends that I would be heading out to go get more drinks, to give an excuse to get some fresh air and get a clear head.

I put my long black coat on and headed out of the penthouse, closing the door behind me. I felt her eyes burning holes in the back of my head before I stepped out, and it hurt even more when she didn’t even explain herself. 

—

I sat on the night train, having booked it for a reason. So I could sit here in this hurt. 

Bustling crowds and silent sleepers. I’m not sure which is worse. Because I was trying to figure out why she said no. Why did she not want to marry me? 

Was it because I worked late? Was it because sometimes I wasn’t affectionate? Was I supposed to do things that she wanted me to..but I didn’t? 

So many thoughts flooded through my mind and I could barely think straight. I’ve been riding this train for almost two hours, getting missed texts from everyone at the party but Betty. Why hadn’t she texted me? Why wasn’t she trying to find me? Everything around me was imploding at the same time, and it felt so hard to bare. 

I could picture it now when I would visit my family on New Year’s. My sister standing beside me, both of us sharing a cigarette on the small front porch of our trailer we grew up in. 

“She would’ve made such a lovely, bride, Jug. What a shame she can’t see it, since she’s f*cked in the head.” 

Jellybean would definitely say that. She always had a bad mouth, but that would partly be my fault.

I looked down at my watch, watching the big and little hands meet the 12 at the top. I sighed softly and pulled out the ring I had proposed with. It was my mother’s ring, and I wanted to give it to the woman I loved. The woman I wanted to share my life with. 

“Merry Christmas to me.” I muttered to myself, before snapping the box shut and shoving it back in my coat pocket. I was tempted to throw it out the window of the train, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I just couldn’t. Why? I don’t know. There were too many questions I didn’t know how to answer. That I needed her to answer. But if she wasn’t going to call or text, or ask to talk to me, I won’t talk to her.

So I’ll take the train for the next few hours and see where it leads me. 

Anywhere could be better than here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tbc :)


End file.
